


ignite my circuits and start a flame

by virtueless (gracefullyme)



Series: (Well I) was waiting for you all my life [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, fine arts scott is back, i wasn't even planning on writing more arts scott yet here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefullyme/pseuds/virtueless
Summary: 'It’s the sixth painting that cracks her, something so simple. It may mean nothing to everyone else in the room, but this one, she knows is for her eyes and her eyes only. 'OrScott's artwork is a part of the gallery his university is hosting for all graduates.





	ignite my circuits and start a flame

**Author's Note:**

> hey friends,  
> i'm back. a bunch of you asked for more so here we are!! i have a more angsty one in the works but had this idea which i wanted to whip out.  
> hope you enjoy :)

There’s excitement humming through his veins. It’s complete, it’s finally complete. His final gallery piece. He’s standing in his bedroom, attempting to adjust his tie, when Tessa walks in, the black lacy slip hugging her figure. He lets out a low whistle. ‘Damn Virtch, looking good.’ His words never failing to bring pink to her cheeks, as she steps up to him to fix his tie. 

‘Alright, Moir, you ready to get this show on the road?’ She says, neatening the lapels before grabbing her phone to confirm their Uber. 

 

In the car, his knee relentlessly jiggles, a result of the nerves and excitement that’s currently fueling his body. It’s only when her hand is resting gently on his leg, that the jiggling stops, his hand engulfing hers, her energy reaching out across their bodies to help calm him. 

 

Upon arrival, they’re promptly greeted with a glass of champagne, the room bustling with students and their families. There, they spot Alma standing off to the side, a smile on her lips not so different to the one Tessa see’s each day, one filled with kindness and warmth. 

 

‘Mum, we’re here. Sorry to leave you waiting.’ Scott says, placing a kiss on her cheek in greeting and before Tessa gets a chance to say hello, Alma is wrapping her up in warm, motherly hug. 

 

‘My darlings, it’s so nice to see you again. I am so glad we could all be here together tonight. Tessa, don’t you look wonderful.’ Alma’s voice kind and tender, causing a faint blush to spread across Tessa’s cheeks.  ‘Now Scotty, you go do your thing, I know there’s lots of people who want to speak to you. I need to tell dear Tessa here about your first experience with a paintbrush.’ Tessa releases a small chuckle, eager to hear the story as Scott presses a kiss to both their cheeks, before being sucked into the whirlwind of the night. 

 

Alma and her wander throughout the gallery, taking their time to sip their drinks and chat freely about Scott and his silly ways. They slowly make their way around the room, conversation stalling when they both take in the name before them. 

 

There it is, finally, right in front of her. His work stands tall and proud. A collection. A journey. Six paintings mount the wall in front of her, side by side. Each canvas colouring a different story but melding together into a rhythm of beauty and life. As she’s about to focus on the first painting, his description of the collection captures her attention. 

 

**Above All, Love; Scott Moir (2016)**

_ This collection represents my journey in love. There’s heartbreak, there’s anger, there’s naivety, there’s hope. But, above all, there’s always love. Love itself is a universal theme, something each and everyone of us feels, and it has the power to shape and mold every single one of us differently. So, here, I present my story, my journey, my understanding of love and how it has affected my life, in both negative and positive ways.  _

 

Tessa brings a shaky hand to her lips, eyes welling with tears as she becomes overwhelmed with, well, love. She takes her time to observe the six paintings, slowly disconnecting from reality as Scott’s paint strokes consume her whole. 

 

The first, is clearly representative of his first love. A small, delicate flower budding, exposing itself to life and wonder. The soft blend of gentle colours in delicate strokes holds a beauty to them, a beauty that Tessa know’s only Scott’s hands could possess. 

 

The second, tells a different story. Here, the confusion of the loss of his first love is evident. He’s painted a hand reaching out, yearning for a special someone’s, only to find the hand he was seeking wrapped up in another’s. Through the oils, she can feel the pain and anguish he felt. 

 

The third, a dark sky filled with sparkling stars. Constellations and galaxies coat the fabric. His gentle strokes and the starry sky, acting as a reminder of how beautiful love can be. However, stars too, eventually burn out. 

 

The fourth, smashed glass is delicately painted, covering the canvas in its entirety. She’s only heard little of this time but she knows how heavily it ways on his heart. Whenever he brings up these times, she itches to change the subject as the pain, to this day, still remains visible across his face. The pain he felt,  _ feels _ , is palpable, the shards embodying every moment of anger, upset, and hurt that consumed his life during this period. This canvas, so real,  shows how love nearly destroyed him. 

 

In the fifth, he’s painted a mosaic. It’s only when she looks closely that she notices it. The mosaic is made from the broken glass of the painting that comes before. It’s the only one in the collection that has a direct connection to another painting. The painting unsettles her, the multitude of layers throwing her off. At first it shows his rejuvenation, his attempt of fixing and bettering himself that resulted in a version so beautiful. Yet, like any mosaic, there’s gaps between the glass, a stark reminder that there is still room for error and room for growth. 

 

It’s the sixth painting that cracks her, something so simple yet her heart might simply explode. It may mean nothing to everyone else in the room, but this one, she knows is for her eyes and her eyes only. There, in the middle of the blank canvas, he has a painted a solid black line, meeting ends in a perfect circle. For them, it shows everything important; connection, unity, trust but most importantly, it shows completion, something she knows they both feel in their souls whenever they’re together. 

 

Wiping underneath her eyes, she takes a step back from his collection and clears her throat, grasping on to any composure she had left. Turning around, she finds Alma gone, honestly, she has no idea when she left, so enraptured by his efforts that her awareness of anything else completely dissipated. 

 

The sound of a voice clearing into a microphone breaks her free of her thoughts, with people gathering around a small, makeshift stage. 

 

‘Welcome everyone. It’s an honour to have you all here tonight to celebrate Western’s brightest and most talented fine arts students. Here, we present before you, the accumulation of years of blood, sweat and tears all poured into the different mediums.’ A gentle round of applause breaks up the dean’s speech. ‘Wonderful art fills the building tonight, each piece representing a different story, a different journey, a different memory, a different  _ feeling.  _ We, as the mentors for these students are extremely proud of the work presented before you and can’t wait to see what their future holds. Now, I’ll invite the Head of Fine Arts, to the stage for a very special announcement.’ 

 

As the older woman walks to the stage, another wave of applause breaks out in recognition. ‘Tonight, there is another reason you are all here. This is something new for the department but we believed it is well deserved and are very excited to finally announce it. A student here, will be receiving a significant amount of funding in recognition of their efforts throughout their time here at Western. This is up to the student’s discretion but can either be spent on furthering their education or enhancing their career path whether that be art supplies or helping with the costs of a gallery.’ Murmurs fill the floor, the news bringing rejuvenated excitement to the room. 

 

‘It is possibly the privilege of my career to bring forward this student to the stage. He has demonstrated that he has great potential however it is his love of art, his dedication to his education and above all, it is his  _ kindness _ that radiates from him which leaves us to award this to him with great pride. I am pleased to announce that the recipient of the award will be Scott Moir.’ 

 

Tessa’s mouth falls open, and she can’t help the little squeak that comes out of her mouth. There he is, making his way up the stage with a small, grateful smile grazing his face. She’s vaguely aware of the tears that fall from her eyes, she’s just  _ so  _ filled with pride, and it’s when she takes a quick look around the cheering room that she notices Alma, also standing there with tears in her eyes. He readily accepts the award and when he turns to thank the audience and his scholars, his left eye drops into a wink that she knows is just for her.

 

It’s a while later when she actually gets to see Scott again. As soon as he stepped foot off the stage, he was swept up by teachers and students all with well wishes for him. Tessa, knowing she’ll get Scott for the night is more than happy to step back and let him have his moment. He deserves all the praise he’s receiving anyway, it’s so wonderfully heartwarming to see him receive such recognition. 

 

She’s trying to make sense of a sculpture, when a familiar set of arms wrap around her torso. ‘You know, it’s only really your art that makes sense to me. Literally have no clue what’s happening with this one.’ Scott can’t help but chuckle at that before pressing a kiss into her hair. Tessa spins in his arms, effectively removing any space that existed between them. The way they’re standing might not be considered the most appropriate considering their location but Tessa can’t help the overwhelming need to be close to him, naturally fueled by all the pride she’s felt tonight. 

 

‘God Tess, I’m so glad you could be here with me tonight.’ Scott’s eyes warming hers. She can’t help but grasp both his cheeks and reach up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. 

 

‘Scott Moir, my sweet boy, I can’t tell you how proud of you I am.’ He flashes her another one of his smiles, crinkles forming by his eyes, before ducking his head to place another kiss on her lips. 

 


End file.
